Page 5 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

We head to the counter, where I pull out a demo lock I keep for situations like this. Setting it on the counter, I walk her through each step—removing the old lock, aligning the new one, and tightening the screws. She watches intently, her confidence growing with each instruction.

When I hand her the lock and screwdriver, her shoulders relax a little. “It’s easier than it looks,” I say, my tone softer now. “You’ve got this.”

She grins. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Just let me know how it goes,” I reply as she heads to the register.

Watching her leave, I feel that familiar pride settle in. This is why I love running the store—helping people feel like they can handle things they thought they couldn’t.

Later that evening, the comforting smell of Aunt Dotty’s pot roast fills the house, and I take a deep breath, letting the warmth of the meal soothe me. Aunt Dotty moves around the kitchen with the same practiced ease she’s had for years, her apron on and her hair pulled back in a neat bun like she’s preparing for another perfect dinner.

I grab a plate and sit down at the table, the weight of the day catching up to me. The garden, the store, and the new boy next door.

Aunt Dotty ladles the gravy onto my mashed potatoes, her eyes twinkling as she places the dish in front of me. I try to settle into the familiar rhythm of our dinners, but she’s got that look—the one that says she’s about to push my buttons.

“So, sugar,” she begins casually, setting the serving bowl of green beans on the table. “Tell me about our new neighbor. Ethan, right?”

I freeze for a moment, my fork hovering just above my plate. “Aunt Dotty,youtoldmehis name, so no need to play dumb. And I already told you about him.”

“Oh, I know you did,” she says, taking a seat across from me, her grin wide. “But you didn’t really tell me what you think of him. You know, not everyone can pull off that ‘city boy’ charm so effortlessly.”

I roll my eyes and try to stay nonchalant, cutting into my roast. “He’s not charming, Aunt Dotty. He’sa walking billboard for ‘I’m too good for small towns.’ He practically oozes it.”

Aunt Dotty raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Really? Oozing, huh?”

I can feel my cheeks flush, but I refuse to let her get to me. “Yeah. Big city attitude, fancy truck, the whole deal.”

Aunt Dotty’s eyes narrow slightly, clearly enjoying this. “Hmm. Are you sure you’re not just a little affected by his ‘city boy’ charm? You know, you’ve been living in Bardstown for a while now. And I don’t recall you getting all wound up over any of the other new arrivals.”

“I guess I’ve been on edge,” I admit, stabbing at my mashed potatoes a little harder than necessary. “But he didn’t exactly make the best first impression, either.”

Aunt Dotty leans back in her chair, casually tapping her fingers on the edge of her glass. “Oh, I see. So, no part of you noticed how handsome he is? I mean, he’s got that ‘polished’ look, but under that, there’s a certain… something. You’re telling me none of that caught your attention?”

I quickly glance up at her, my face flushing again. “Aunt Dotty, I told you—he’s annoying. I don’t care about his looks.”

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” Aunt Dotty says, voice dripping with sweetness. “But you do seem to be talking about him a lot for someone who doesn’t care.”

“You brought him up!” I let out a frustrated sigh, trying to hide my growing smile.

Aunt Dotty laughs, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “I’m just saying, Riley, sometimes the people we least expect can surprise us. Maybe this ‘city boy’ is exactly what you need.”

I shake my head, determined not to give in. “I’m not interested in him, period. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Aunt Dotty leans in closer, her voice low but teasing. “And yet, somehow, that guy is the one you’re talking about the most. You sure there’s nothing else behind that ‘annoying’ exterior?”

I groan, putting my head in my hands. “Aunt Dotty, I’m really not in the mood for your matchmaking games.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sugar,” Aunt Dotty says, sitting back in her chair with a satisfied grin. “I’m not matchmaking. Just having a little fun with you. You might find that he’s not all bad. I think you might even like him more than you’re letting on.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. “You’re impossible.”

Aunt Dotty’s grin widens, and she pats my hand gently. “Maybe. But you know I only want the best for you, Riley. Just don’t be too quick to judge.”

I keep my mouth shut, but my mind keeps wandering back to Ethan. I try to push away the image of his grin, that self-assured gleam in his eye when he told me to give him a minute. There was something about it I can’t quite shake—and that’s what bothers me the most. I shove the thought away, unwilling tolet it take root.

I pick up my fork again and mutter, “I’m not giving him a chance.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, I’m not entirely sure I believe them.

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